


Shattered

by SilverSpoon6609



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5039836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSpoon6609/pseuds/SilverSpoon6609
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headcannons with a side dish of plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

It's strange, the way his memory works now. Nothing is linear any more. It's a tangled, twisted up web of images connected and convoluted by a thin silvery thread of hurt. He doesn't want to think like this, not now. Not on their way to…not when they need to focus on their job.

He's slipping in and out of restless sleep, head alternating between knocking against the window and hanging down on his chest while Aaron drives the second leg.

He wakes up, rubs at his face and pictures Carl. He doesn't think about the first time he got shot. He pictures Rick screaming, scrambling for something to staunch the blood flowing out of his son's face. He pictures Denise. Hands trembling, not trusting herself to take care of things. He pictures the look in Rick's eyes, the desperate plea that he wouldn't dare utter, remembers chewing his lip and ducking his head in a quick nod before grabbing Aaron.

"I know where there's a doctor." 

There are spots, sparkling, catching tiny rays of sun and flashing them before his eyes before they dissipate. Moments that mean so much to him but in hindsight were so small and fleeting. He blinks against the light and asks Aaron to repeat himself.

"Do you think they'll come?"  
"I dunno, gotta try though."

It's nearly an hour of silence. Aaron can feel Daryl pulling into himself, getting smaller in the passenger seat.

"It was bad? What happened in Atlanta."  
Daryl doesn't answer, just looks out the window.

"I know it was, you would've said something sooner. About the people there. We would've gone there already." Aaron doesn't have to look to know he's sucking his lip into his mouth and biting down. "You lost people there."

It's like he's grabbed a hold of the knife that's been permanently imbedded in Daryl's gut and twisted his insides into a figure eight.

"Tara told Eric, about Maggie's sister…"  
"Beth."  
Aaron glances over. Daryl's fists are clenched, one resting on the knife he never uses. There is nothing left to say after hearing the way he croaked out her name, Aaron gets it now.  
"Oh."

The rest of the drive is silent.

 

They can see the smoke twenty miles out.  
The white plume rising slowly in the distance and Daryl knows.  
He knows there's no doctor.  
No supplies.  
No nurse.  
No hope.  
Nothing.

But they go anyway. Park far enough away to see it's a lost cause. Aaron watches him pace back and forth in front of the car before kicking the fender and swinging the door open.

"I'm drivin'. Ain't leaving her here again."

It's a completely ambiguous spot.

Broken down, abandoned cars and the rotting carcasses of twice dead bodies.

Aaron hangs back, just by a few yards, and watches Daryl circle a rusted sedan. 

He peers in, makes a low groan in his throat before stepping back and raising his crossbow.

Even from his distance, Aaron can see his chest hitch. He sees a hesitation in the way Daryl's fingers grip the trigger, he watches Daryl step forward with his eyes closed.

Until his boots crunch the already broken glass on the ground.

"No." It's a breathless word that turns into a whine, a cry Aaron didn't imagine a man could make. He closes the distance, throws out the modicum of privacy he had tried to leave.

There's nothing.

Well, there is a rust colored stain of long dried blood on the back seat.

Daryl sits. Drops to the ground, hardly catching himself. He's leaning against the car, surrounded by shards of the broken window. He's quiet, until he isn't.

He slams his palms down, wincing as pieces of glass break through his skin and press themselves into his flesh. He can feel tears welling up and blurring his vision as he raises his bloodied hands to face.

His hands are trembling and the dirt and glass are melting together with his bones and blood, until he tilts his head and the sunlight reflects off the prismatic fragments of hope unintentionally forced under his skin.

"There's nothin' there."

Aaron is standing in front him, struggling to hear his low voice.

"There ain't anything in the car."

Suddenly Daryl is up off the ground, frantically looking around.

"Daryl…"

"The glass ain't in the car!" He's yelling, rubs his eyes on his forearm and refocuses. Forcing his emotions down and his instincts back up.

"You ever break a window? With a ball?"

Aaron just stares. 

"Glass falls inside." He's touching things, going through the glove compartment. "This's all outside!"

"You mean she…"

"That window broke from inside the damn car."

Aaron stares at Daryl, wide eyed, remembering the story Eric retold. Trade off gone bad, bullet to the head. Bullet to the head. Bullet to the head.

"But she… you think there's a way?"

Daryl bites his lip and looks at his bloody hand. "That window broke from inside the damn car."


End file.
